


better the devil that you know, than the devil that you don't

by knubtastick



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Vampires, Werewolves, i won't spoil them though, stark werewolf pack, still set in the asoiaf universe, targaryen vampire clan, the werewolf and vampire au that nobody asked for, there's other supernatural creatures in here too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knubtastick/pseuds/knubtastick
Summary: Both the Stark pack and the Targaryen clan are dealing with the aftermath of devastating losses. A lone wolf takes matters into her own hands to change the tide in their favor. In a time when the supernatural are ostracized and degraded, will these efforts be enough?Five times Daenerys and Arya took a risk and the one time they didn't.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 40
Kudos: 264





	1. I can hear a lone wolf cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya Stark takes a risk and makes a less-than-anticipated visit.

Raindrops echoed off the cobblestone streets outside, which were mostly deserted in an effort to escape the unending, bone-chilling downpour. Peasants and nobles alike bundled up in the safety and warmth of their homes for the night. Aside from the occasional guard on patrol, Dragonstone’s small village below the castle appeared desolate. There was a lone figure, draped in a dark cloak that was tattered and heavily drenched. The hood of the mysterious traveler’s cloak kept their face obstructed from view. Even without the hood, they moved so swiftly that it would’ve been difficult to identify them.

Nimble as a cat, the figure darted from one alleyway to the next, avoiding the illumination of the main path’s torches. It was clear that this individual had a goal in mind, advancing with purpose. After an almost brush-in with a group of soldiers leaving the nearby tavern that was too close for comfort, the hooded body climbed to the rooftops, seemingly indifferent to the threat of possible archers. The sheets of rain did make for a decent cover from any ranger’s searching eyes.

Leaping from one straw thatched roof to another, they eventually made their way to the barrier wall connected to the Stone Drum, a tower which was well-known to be the central keep of Dragonstone. The structure was massive, the top being so high up, that the fog and rain of the storm clouded it from sight. Undeterred by its intimidating size, the cloaked traveler began to climb up the side of the tower. Their nails extended like claws as they found purchase on the blackstone walls and repeatedly lifted themselves upwards with inhuman strength. Beside the occasional grunt of exertion, which couldn’t be heard over the booming claps of thunder that cracked throughout the sky, the stranger ascended rather effortlessly.

Gripping onto the base of one of the gargoyle guardians situated at the corners of the tower’s summit, the figure hauled themselves onto the rooftop. As if they studied the layout of the castle prior, the hooded infiltrator moved to the opposite ledge that loomed over a large window that was built to provide a grand view of the castle grounds. With supernatural agility, they dropped from the ledge to the lip of the windowsill. Cautiously, they pressed their body tight against the wall surrounding the window. Wiping at the glass, they peered inside and checked to see that the coast was clear. Satisfied with what they saw, they began to pick the padlock keeping the windowpanes shut, using a finely crafted dagger they had unsheathed from their belt. Listening closely to the scraping of the lock’s pins, they promptly unlatched the mechanism and descended into the room below.

Silently closing the doors of the window behind them, they crept further into the room. The famed Painted Table rested at the center of the chamber. The tabletop itself was painted to illustrate the map of Westeros and its seven kingdoms. The intruder’s eyes studied the furniture briefly before scanning for the real prize.

Seated in a regal, high-backed chair in front of the room’s imposing fireplace, was the ruler of Dragonstone. The unannounced visitor could only see her profile. The woman’s platinum-white hair reflected the shine of the flickering flames in front of her. Casually, the ring-adorned fingers of her right hand rested comfortably upon the clawed armrest of her temporary throne. Her left hand was poised in the air, calmly swirling a goblet of wine. Her relaxed posture and the lack of any other physical indicators led the hooded figure to assume that they had yet to be noticed. Sneaking in for a closer look the trespasser halted their advance at the ruler’s sudden words.

“If you’re going to sneak into my chambers like some sort of assassin, the least you could do is not come in drenched and smelling of wet dog,” she grimaced, still watching the hearth.

The figure stood to their full height and cautiously removed the dripping hood of their cloak so that it settled onto their shoulders. The seated royal rose from her chair to face the newcomer. Now removed of the cowl, the intruder’s features caught the attention of Dragonstone’s monarch. She was a woman, probably not much younger than herself. Her hair was a dark brown, almost black. It was cut in a short, scraggly manner, much like a young man’s. Her eyes were a stone-colored gray, that of the sky when a storm was brewing overhead. But her face was rounded and softer in comparison to the rest of her features.

The stranger responded briskly, getting straight to the point, “You are Daenerys Stormborn, last living heir to the Targaryen clan?”

“That depends on who’s asking…” The Targaryen chuckled lightly, more amused by the interruption to her nightly routine than anything.

Inhaling sharply before speaking her next words, the dark-haired woman introduced herself, “My name is Arya, Arya Stark. I’m visiting you on behalf of the Stark pack.”

In a sudden change of demeanor, the monarch raised her lips, showing off sharp, pointed fangs, “What business could a Stark possibly have with a Targaryen? You must be an assassin then. Here to finish the deed, is that it? To get rid of the Targaryen bloodline once and for all?”

“Alright, Princess of Dragonstone, are you done yet? Ready to let me finish?” The Stark questioned dryly and huffed out a breath that sent her bangs fluttering off her forehead.

Rolling her eyes, Daenerys gestured for her to continue, “I might as well hear you out before I kill you.”

Arya merely raised her eyebrows, unimpressed by the threat. “I’m here because our families have a common enemy. Or, should I say, enemies.”

“Like who?”

“Like the Lannisters and the Baratheons,” Arya answered plainly. “Tywin and Cersei Lannister had my father beheaded and Robert Baratheon and Jaime Lannister stabbed yours in the back. The Lannisters pretend to be noble ‘monster hunters’ striving to destroy every supernatural creature that goes bump in the night. The Baratheons project this false image that they assist the Lannisters for the safety of the common folk.” The Stark shook her head in contempt. “They both claim that our fathers’ executions were for the betterment of the realm, but we know that’s not true. They did it for power. In comparison to our families, their other adversaries are weak and nothing but thorns in Tywin and Robert’s sides. Our fathers were the only real endangerment to their authority.”

Daenerys, although having listened patiently to the other girl’s retelling of their recent losses, sighed tiredly and rubbed at her temple with the hand not still holding her goblet. “I am well aware of the Lannisters and the Baratheons’ poor perceptions of our kind. I am also aware of how they use their personal opinions to rally the people into irate, irrational mobs. They capitalize on people’s fears to get away with murder. But what makes you think that that’s enough for me to want to work with you and your pack? It’s no secret that our families have never seen eye to eye. And it’s been rumored that your precious pack leader, Ned Stark, went along with Robert Baratheon’s plan to kill my father.” The Targaryen raised an eyebrow in silent challenge, begging the Stark to disagree.

Letting out a low whistle, Arya casually moved forward to Daenerys, “Jumping straight into it, then? Alright, well I heard that you personally had the centaur, Khal Drogo, kill your own brother.” It wasn’t an accusation. The Stark spoke as if they were discussing the weather; simple, unbothered. “Some say you did it so that your claim to lead the clan would become unquestioned. Others say you did it because Varys was a self-righteous asshole. I’d place my bets on the latter.” The she-wolf flicked her wrist, waving off the rumor like one would a bothersome fly. “I would’ve thought you’d have learned by now not to take gossip at face-value. Maybe you’re not as ready as I thought.” The Stark shrugged to herself before continuing, “You’re right, my father was there the day they killed Aerys, but not for the reason you believe. He was there to change Robert Baratheon’s mind. My father and King Robert go back a ways. They fought in a war together, bonds men when they almost die side-by-side, or some shit like that. Hoping to stop King Robert from making a deal with the devil, my father begged him away from Tywin Lannister. Unfortunately, the Baratheon was overcome like any mere human with his lust for more riches, more control. Didn’t listen to a word my father said, even when he warned him of the new war it could possibly stir. Humans and nonhumans dying for a couple of pompous royals chasing their tails in search of more power. Pathetic.” Arya’s brow was furrowed harshly and her mouth was pulled in a near-snarl, lost to her own feelings for a moment before composing herself again.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes over her chalice as she raised it to her lips to sip from. She allowed a weighted lull in conversation to settle around the two of them, hoping to make the Stark uncomfortable. Instead, the she-wolf quietly observed her during the silence. Gray eyes tracked the contraction of her throat as the vampire swallowed the contents of her cup. Smirking to herself, Daenerys set her drink down on a nearby table and languidly closed the distance between herself and the visitor. Adding a purposeful sway to her hips as she moved, the platinum haired woman pressed in tightly against the other woman’s body.

With a sharp grin and a wicked gleam in her eye, Daenerys reached for the knotted string that kept the drenched cloak resting on Arya’s surprisingly strong shoulders. The Stark looked down at her, not giving much of a reaction. Ignoring the lack of response, Daenerys continued. Slowly, teasingly, the Targaryen undid the knot and pushed the cloak off its owner. The soaked fabric hit the stone floor with a dull thud. Arya was left wearing a sleeveless leather jerkin, russet brown and high collared. Her dark black breeches added to her earthen look. Amethyst eyes roved over the newly revealed skin as Daenerys smoothed her hands over the Stark’s biceps, noticing the firm muscle that was previously hidden.

“You do seem well-informed, but…” She paused to glance up at the trespasser with heavily-lidded eyes, “you could always convince me by other means, Wolf.”

Arya stared blankly into Daenerys’ eyes, unflinching to the woman’s advances. Softly, she murmured, “There’s more.”

Unsure of what to make of the Stark’s resistance to her offer, Daenerys played along with a smirk, “More? Pray tell.”

Arya rolled her eyes at the mocking tone, “I’ve heard from a reliable source that Tywin Lannister has encouraged Robert Baratheon to employ spies to look in on you. Track your patterns and routines and whether you’re a promising leader or not.”

Breaking her sultry facade, Daenerys released the woman’s arms and interrogated, “How reliable is your source? And why would Robert Baratheon have me monitored? Why not just have me killed and be done with it?”

The she-wolf shrugged nonchalantly. “My guess is that he wants to see if you really pose a threat before he follows through with any permanent decisions. But you could use his underestimation to your advantage.” As an afterthought, Arya ominously answered the Targaryen’s first question. “And my source is reliable enough.”

“Why are you telling me all of this? Our families have never been kind to one another, and that’s putting it mildly,” Daenerys asked, glancing sideways and looking lost in the glow of the mantle’s flames.

“That’s my point. Our families have never worked together, because our interests never aligned. Until now.” Arya lowered her head to catch violet eyes. “We could change that. We could show our enemies the grave error that they made in crossing our families. Imagine the fear in those bastards’ eyes when they realize that the werewolves and vampires are on the same side, opposing them. The Lannisters and the Baratheons were able to pull one over our fathers, but they won’t with us. We won’t let them.” Gray irises shone with a barely contained storm. It was as if the intensity of Arya’s glances changed in time with the pace of the thunder and rainfall outside. The harder the drops pelted the tower’s rooftop and the more boisterous the peels of thunder the sky erupted with, the more vibrant the depths of gray in the Stark’s eyes became.

Daenerys wasn’t blind, she recognized that her unexpected guest had appealing attributes. But her passion, the way she spoke of justice and her earnest confidence, it stirred something in the Targaryen royal. Maybe she was so sensitive to the sensations that the other woman stirred in her because she hadn’t had a proper feeding in weeks. Since filling the position as the Targaryen matriarch, the platinum haired woman found little time for menial tasks like feedings. It might be what had her on edge so much. Without much thought behind the action, Daenerys tangled one of her hands in the hair at the nape of Arya’s neck before pulling her down into a heated kiss. At first, all the work was being done on Daenerys’ end. At least until something like a fuse was lit in the Stark and she began to reciprocate. Like a steadily burning wick, Arya stoked the flame until it was right on the edge of something. Whether it was good or bad, Daenerys wasn’t entirely sure, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as the dark-haired woman brought those toned arms up to firmly encircle her waist.

Gasping for air, Daenerys untangled herself from the lip-lock long enough to state, “This doesn’t mean that I’m saying yes to your offer.”

Arya smirked with unearned certainty, “Not yet.”

Annoyed at the other’s self-assured words, Daenerys reconnected their mouths, biting hard at Arya’s bottom lip. She was in danger of drawing blood, which could sour the mood if she wasn’t careful. The Stark seemed unbothered by the painful retaliation, only grunting in response before kissing back just as enthusiastically.

“Who knew a wolf could be so pliable,” the vampire teased between the press of their mouths.

Eyes flickering between the monarch’s eyes and lips, Arya let out a low rumble of a growl from deep within her chest, “A Stark is anything but pliable.”

Huffing out a chuckle into the air they were sharing, Daenerys lightly asked, “Let me guess. Beta?”

A true growl emitted from Arya as she moved her hands so that her fingers could dig into the other woman’s hips. A delighted gasp slipped past the Targaryen’s lips. The werewolf pulled her in even closer before answering gruffly, “Alpha.”

“Oh, an alpha? Why didn’t you say so? That makes all the difference then,” Daenerys broke out into a blinding grin as she taunted, leaving her gleaming fangs on display.

Arya, about to snark back, was caught off guard when the shorter woman pushed her back into a nearby chair with unexpected ease. It’s wooden legs scraped across the stone floor with the force behind the Targaryen’s movements. Arya opened her mouth, possibly to complain or to question, but she was cut off again. Daenerys effortlessly transitioned from standing over the now-seated wolf to straddling her lap, her grin having not diminished in the slightest.

Resting her hands on Arya’s shoulders, Daenerys reiterated, “Like I said, pliable.” Violet eyes shone with pride as they watched the shock that flashed across the Stark’s features.

Three sharp knocks at the door sounded before a man called out, “Your Highness, is everything alright in there? I heard some noise and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The monarch let out a frustrated sigh and grumbled between them, “Heaven forbid I be left alone for any amount of time.” The she-wolf tilted her head at the door and smirked up at the vampire, “Are you going to handle that? I have a feeling your guard might become a touch more troublesome if he walks in and finds you like this.” Daenerys shot her a withering look before rising back to her feet and marching over to the entryway.

The heavy wooden door creaked as she opened it just the slightest bit so that she could placate the man without him seeing into her chambers. “Everything is perfectly fine. I just bumped into one of the chairs as I was moving about. It’s a little dark in here, I didn’t notice it. But it’s nothing to be concerned over, Jorah.”

“Are you sure? I could bring up some more candles? Maybe grab a few more logs for the fireplace?” The burly man offered gruffly, ever the worrywart when it came to his queen.

With an amused smile, Daenerys eased his worries, “I’m confident I’ll manage. I’ll see you in the morning Ser Jorah.” She nodded in farewell to him and sealed the door once again. Turning around to address her guest, she spoke with a lightly teasing tone, “Now that we’re alone again-” The Targaryen came up short as she realized she was well and truly alone again, her visitor long gone. A scrap of paper on the table that certainly wasn’t there before caught her eye. She picked it up with interest, unfolding it to skim its contents.

If you change your mind and you’d like to take me up on my offer, come to the tavern below the castle, near the village. Come alone. Ask for Taevar, tell him “fear cuts deeper than swords”.

~A


	2. don't you wanna get out of here, out of the woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys takes a risk in following Arya's instructions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's staying safe during this chaotic time! I know the coronavirus has got us all a little more than stressed. Hopefully you're all looking out for yourselves and each other. I thought I'd churn out this update and give you guys something less heavy while classes and work have stopped for a bit. Thanks to @Nyxxyn22 for thinking up the idea of making this work a 5+1 type of thing. Also ten points to whoever can guess Taevar's identity before the end of the chapter!
> 
> Completely irrelevant sidenote, I got a husky pup and she is already like my best friend but if I'm a little more delayed on updating than usual you can assume it's because she's being a handful.
> 
> Title comes from The Woods by Olivver the Kid

It wasn’t exactly seamless, but Daenerys was able to get away from the castle on her own. She had a nagging feeling that Ser Jorah would catch up with her soon, so she moved hastily through the village streets. The downpour had finally eased to a light mist. The air was filled with a rolling fog, but not near as dreary and miserable as it was earlier. The Queen had a cowl pulled over her platinum locks, keeping her identity discreet. Although her steps were confident and purposeful, she felt anything but on the inside.

Daenerys had spent the last hour mulling over the different ways she could respond to Arya’s note. She could decide not to show, but that would lead to further agitation between the Targaryen clan and the Stark pack. On the other hand, if she showed up to this meeting place, it could be a trap. The moment she stepped into the tavern and spoke the words Arya had told her to, she could be at the sharp end of a traitorous stranger’s blade. Daenerys understood the gravity of her decision, no matter which route she decided to take.

But Arya Stark intrigued her. There was a dangerous air of mystery shrouding the she-wolf that both enticed and unnerved her. Age-old feud aside, Daenerys couldn’t smoulder the sudden flicker of fascination growing in her for the woman. Inevitably, it was why she found herself steps away from the tavern Arya wrote about. She looked at the building, finding nothing spectacular or significant on the outside. Its stone walls were stacked like any other and its roof lined with the same wooden tiles as most. The only thing that made it even remotely singular was the sign hanging above the doorway. The thick and heavy sign swayed with every strong breeze, coming to rest back in place with a dull thud. On it was a deep carving of a crescent moon, with flecks of a shiny, silver-like powder coating it. Wrapping around the curve of the moon were the words “Howler’s Rest”. The Targaryen nearly rolled her eyes. If Arya did in fact have a contact in this tavern, they certainly weren’t making their association with the wolf pack subtle. Daenerys found it odd that she had never noticed the establishment before, seeing as how it was the only tavern in the village. But then again, she wasn’t known for frequenting local taverns, but for ruling kingdoms and leading an army of Unsullied vampires.

Glancing around one last time to make sure she wasn’t followed, the monarch pushed on the timbered door and made her entrance. The place was warmed by various candles resting atop the tables and a large kiln taking up space behind the barkeep’s counter. It was as if every man and woman of the village was within these four walls, with it being as full and raucous as it was. There wasn’t an empty table in sight. Barmaids were dodging sloshing mugs of ale as they made their way to enthusiastic customers. Violet eyes flitted over the various patrons before focusing on the barkeep. He was a lithe man, his movements a touch too graceful to look natural in a place like this. His dark curls were shaggy and drifted down across his brow, causing him to brush them out of the way occasionally. The mustache and goatee on his face were well groomed, making the man stand out further. She figured he would be the best option for now and approached the bar.

“Excuse me sir, would you know where I could find a man by the name of Taevar?” Daenerys played it cool, keeping her tone casual and her cowl firmly over her head.

The man’s eyes danced with a sparkle of recognition. He spoke through a smirk, “Some days, that’s me, other days, not so. It depends on who’s asking.” Forgoing his obvious inquiry to her own identity, the barkeep continued with a finality to his voice, “Today, I am Taevar Cellaeris.” He bowed his head graciously at her, his behavior all the more incompatible with the rest of the occupants.

Daenerys found the man’s demeanor too out of place for her to think of a response. She watched him in befuddlement.

He leaned across the bar, closer to her, and whispered, “How may I serve you, Your Majesty?”

At the title, Daenerys immediately clammed up. Her eyes narrowed and she shot back sharply, “Fear cuts deeper than swords.” She wasn’t going to mince her words. It was time to find out if Arya’s motives for sending her here were true.

Taevar rapped his knuckles across the tabletop theatrically, “Mm. Come along then.” Daenerys blinked bewilderedly at him. She hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Catching herself, she was quick to close the gap and follow him. He weaved through throngs of people and down a corridor to a backdoor that led to the outside. He winked back at her conspiratorially and held it open for her to walk through. She would’ve appreciated the gesture if she hadn’t been preoccupied trying to fight the chill threatening to run down her spine. She looked out the doorway but all she saw was dense forest. She squinted up at Taevar quizzically.

“She’s expecting you,” with a flourish he motioned to the deep and dark woods before them. “She’ll find you.”

Every hair on Daenerys’ body stood on end. This felt exactly like a trap. Walking into a tree line so thick she couldn’t even see where it started and ended didn’t feel like a wise choice at all. If Jorah were here he wouldn’t hesitate to dismiss the idea. Taevar only stood there quietly, confidently. As if he already knew what her decision would be. Daenerys dryly inquired, “Am I to just walk aimlessly out there? Doesn’t seem very befitting of a queen does it?”

The barkeep’s lips twitched with a smirk, “Not befitting of a woman of Lady Stark’s stature either, but nonetheless.” He leaned out of the doorway to swipe a lit torch off the wall and offered it to the Targaryen. “I’m sure you don’t need it, but if it makes you more comfortable.”

Daenerys accepted the torch politely and pulled her cloak in snug under her chin, “Thank you.” With that, she finally stepped outside. She was a few paces away when the man called out one last time before closing the door again, “Remember, she’ll find you.”

The Queen took a calming breath and tightened her fingers around the torch as she walked into the thicket of woods. She could hardly see ten paces ahead of her, the flames of her torch causing shadows to dance across bark-covered trunks. Pine trees towered overhead as the fog coiled through the forest floor. It was eerily quiet and it struck a nerve with the vampire. She knew that she was well equipped to defend herself but that didn’t make her current predicament any less unsettling. Daenerys went still as she attempted to listen for any other sounds beyond the rustle of her own footsteps or the pounding of her heart. But still, not even the chirping of crickets or the distant hoots of an owl could be heard. “I cannot believe that I’m traipsing around some dirty forest for a woman I hardly know just so-” Daenerys had started grumbling under her breath but stopped short when she saw a shadow race by from the corner of her eye. Her head darted back and forth, trying to find the source. Two glowing dots among the pines caught her attention. No sooner had she pieced together that she was being watched when a massive wolf stalked out from the darkness. Tan, brown, and black fur shone with the reflection of the torch’s flames. The beast was much larger than the average wolf. It stood as tall as a grown man. And its eyes were more knowing than any simple animal. Gray like the deep currents of a stormy ocean, those eyes considered Daenerys patiently. She recognized that calculating look.

“Couldn’t meet me somewhere indoors at least?” Daenerys joked.

Muscled shoulders and broad paws shifted as the wolf padded closer and started to circle the monarch silently.

Daenerys mockingly noted, “Giving me the silent treatment I see.” As entitled as any queen could be, she reached out to run her fingers through soft fur without permission. Instead of avoiding her, the wolf appeared unbothered by the action. It seemed to urge on the contact. Daenerys grinned, “Even alphas require attention it seems.”

The wolf looked at her blankly before leaning in. With all the tact of a household pet, it licked a deliberate, wet strip up the Targaryen’s cheek. The Queen finally broke character with a grimace and scrubbed at her face. “Not that I don’t enjoy a lick every now and then, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” She shoved the wolf’s head away good-naturedly, “Are you going to turn back or am I doing all the talking in this arrangement?” Her brow arched in amused challenge.

The wolf released a human-like huff that billowed across the Targaryen’s face, causing her cowl to drift out of place, and trotted off out of sight. Daenerys folded her arms, torch still in one hand, as she waited for her companion’s return, smiling to herself for reasons unknown.

A fully dressed, human, Arya Stark reappeared a few minutes later. The monarch couldn’t help but comment on the she-wolf’s state, “Happy to see you on two legs again, but you could’ve forgone the clothing.” Her gaze travelled hungrily up and down the nimble frame before her.

“Even queens can’t always have what they desire,” Arya tossed back breezily. She was still fastening one of the leather straps of her jerkin as she walked. Her eyes were focused on it until she calmly addressed her visitor, “Since you’re here, do you have an answer for me?” The Stark peered up at her with that look again. The one that was far too knowing in Daenerys’ opinion.

“You’ve managed to get my attention, which is a feat in of itself with the history between our families,” Her remark wasn’t lost on the she-wolf, who’s countenance remained impassive despite, “But, you’ve also given me hope for a better future. A future without tyrants like Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon. As a queen, it is my duty to ensure the safety of my people and working with you could do just that.”

Arya pestered with a chuckle, “So this is for your people, is it?” Her tone proved she wasn’t convinced. “No other motives behind your agreement?”

Unbidden, Daenerys felt the warmth of a blush rising up her neck and to her cheeks. “Why don’t you leave my motives to me and focus on our alliance. We have some planning to do, do we not?”

“That we do.” Arya returned to business. The Queen had a feeling the she-wolf wouldn’t let her motives go unquestioned forever. “We’ll have to formally announce our alliance to our people. It wouldn’t do any good to have vampires and wolves shedding blood with each other instead of with our real enemies.”

Daenerys bobbed her head in agreement, “We can arrange a meeting between my clan and your pack.” There was a question nagging the monarch, “I am curious, how did you manage a contact like Taevar right under my nose? In my own keep?”

“I can’t go revealing all my secrets. It might dispel the mystery,” Arya shot a cocksure glance at the other woman. Her lips were pulled wide with a sly smirk as she held her hands behind her back.

The Targaryen knew a bait when she saw one. Much like earlier, in her chambers, she advanced on the Stark with intent. Once she bridged the distance, fingers traveled along Arya’s torso, up to the strap she had just fastened. Her tongue passed over her lips, deliberately leaving them wet and tempting. “Uncovering the mystery is half the fun.”

“And what makes up the other half?” Gray bore into violet as Arya ventured with a rasp.

Daenerys loosened the strap, exposing Arya’s neck and collarbone. She drifted her hand to the spot, running the pads of her fingertips over her collarbone. So slowly that Daenerys had to wonder how the other woman kept from squirming, she dragged her nails up the side of the she-wolf’s neck and around to the back of her head, to her dark, cropped hair. “Seeing what’s beneath,” Daenerys answered breathlessly. All she could see was the pale neck before her. The expanse of skin and veins that laid close enough to the surface to be visible. She could feel the prickling of the points of her teeth just behind her lips. It brought a sharp reminder to her senses that she was getting caught up in the moment. Taking a shaky breath, the Queen looked into steel-colored eyes. Arya was as sturdy and solid as before. If not for the intensity of her stare, Daenerys would’ve assumed her unaffected.

“What if what you discover underneath isn’t what you were expecting?” The question caught the Targaryen off guard. It was obscure and weighted, and far too honest to sound comfortable coming from the Stark’s mouth.

“Who said I had expectations?” Daenerys knew she was bluffing and she was sure the other woman knew it too. She raised her chin in the air just the slightest bit, trying to look as assured as she hoped her words sounded.

Arya removed Daenerys’ cowl and cloak in one fluid motion. “Everyone has expectations.” She remarked plainly. The she-wolf swept a few loose platinum strands back in place in an alarmingly delicate gesture. “His name isn’t Taevar and he’s only been at the tavern for six months. We bribed the real owner to disappear for a little while.”

Startled at the confession along with the soft touch, Daenerys fought to keep up, “So who is he truly?”

“Syrio Forel.”

“Is he a wolf too?” The Queen rhetorically asked, already assuming the answer. To her disappointment, her words came out less accusatory than she had intended.

Arya shook her head, “No. But he is one of the best water dancers in all of Braavos. He was my teacher.”

“So what part does he play in all of this? Why does he help you?” Daenerys' forehead scrunched with puzzlement. “He’s certainly more involved than any instructor I’ve ever had.”

“We aren’t the only ones who want to rid the realm of Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon and we’re not the only ones who have suffered by their decrees,” The Stark’s brow furrowed and her lips set in a firm line.

The Queen watched Arya for a moment, taking in her words. Nodding more to herself, she made her choice, “You’ve proven you’re resourceful and dedicated, clearly. And you possess the subtlety necessary for a pact like this.”

“So that’s a yes, I take it?” Arya offered out a hand to shake. Daenerys took it, but the she-wolf’s grip wasn’t tight. Her hold was secure, but less of a clutch and more of a cradle. Beyond the calluses and the scars, she remained inexplicably yielding. It was another detail that was disarmingly gentle about the Stark. There was more enigma to this woman than Daenerys could have presumed.

“It’s a yes.” The Targaryen smiled softly. “I assume you have a plan for what comes next?”

Letting go of the monarch’s hand, Arya retreated back to an appropriate distance. “I do.” She clasped her hands behind her back once again. “My pack might take the proposal more seriously if you accompanied me in person.” She was quick to continue, sensing Daenerys’ possible objection, “You would be more than welcome to bring your own personal guard, but-” Her eyes steeled, “They wouldn’t harm you, especially if they know you’re with me.”

“Forgive me if I’m a touch skeptical, but I do not think walking right into the wolf’s den is the wisest course of action.” Daenerys appreciated the woman’s attempts at reassurance but she had her doubts. “And although I trust your capabilities, how are your pack mates to know I’m with you when they see me? What would keep them from killing me on sight?”

Arya dismissively waved off the question, “It’s a wolf thing. They’ll know, believe me.”

With an arched brow and an unimpressed look, the vampire pushed, “Enlighten me then, Wolf.”

For the first time, Daenerys saw something akin to discomfort cross the Stark’s features. “It’s my scent-” she motioned a hand indistinctly at the monarch, “They’ll smell it on you.”

The Queen flashed a predatory grin at her counterpart, “_Your scent_?” She ambled right up to the she-wolf.__

_ _

_ _The woman’s gray eyes flitted about restlessly before returning to hers. “It wasn’t my intent. But then you- well, you got much closer than I was expecting.”_ _

_ _

_ _“Close? You mean like this?” Daenerys pressed in and rested her free hand on the Stark’s chest. She could feel the betrayal of a rapidly beating heart beneath her palm. “They could smell you on me and assume I’ve done something ill towards you.”_ _

_ _

_ _Arya’s heart rate spiked a concerning amount before speaking again, “It’s a distinct scent.”_ _

_ _

_ _Possessing the upper hand, the monarch had no intent of wasting it. “And are there many who also carry this distinctive scent of yours? Any others who’ve gotten close to you like this?” She interrogated with her lips mere inches away from the she-wolf’s._ _

_ _

_ _“Not for a long time.” Arya’s answer was practically passing from her mouth to Daenerys’, their faces were so near. Somewhere along the way their voices had become hushed, private._ _

_ _

_ _Without warning, Arya took the torch from Daenerys, throwing it to the dirt and stamping it out. Succumbed to complete darkness, even though both women’s supernatural eyesight meant they could still see, the pair felt less bared. The Stark’s arms wove around Daenerys’ slim waist, tugging her in further. In return, the Targaryen rested both palms flat against Arya’s chest._ _

_ _

_ _“I’ll go with you, on two conditions,” The monarch started resolutely._ _

_ _

_ _“There’s always conditions,” Arya complained, but didn’t sound too put out._ _

_ _

_ _Ghosting a fang across the corner of the she-wolf’s mouth, Daenerys bit back, both physically and figuratively, “Listen.” Once she was sure that she had the Stark’s attention, she resumed. “My brother and your aunt are off-limits.” She paused and let the first condition settle in before speaking the second, “And this arrangement is temporary.” Daenerys wasn’t sure herself if she meant the alliance or her predicament with Arya. Regardless, it was well known that intertwining Targaryens and Starks was disastrous. Rhaegar and Lyanna proved that long ago. Neither were alive to say different. Rhaegar fell in combat in a duel against Robert Baratheon, the man blinded by a jealous rage for Lyanna. And she passed not long after, although it wasn’t known how or why. It could’ve been heartbreak or poison. No one could say. Daenerys wouldn’t let the missteps of her ancestors become her own._ _

_ _

_ _Arya’s embrace stiffened at the reminder of the last time their families entangled. She never was one for love stories the way Sansa was. And her father hardly spoke of the past like that, unless to confide in Arya how much she reminded him of his sister. How he could see that same determination and compassion hidden under a rough exterior. A trait gifted from aunt to niece, he would say. The past was the past, and all they could change was the present and what was to come. Arya husked out, “Your terms are agreeable.” Her hold relaxed again, feeling as at ease as she could with the development. “We have a realm ready to be liberated from Lannisters and Baratheons.”_ _

_ _

_ _“We do.” Daenerys’ breathing came a little easier knowing the Stark was on board. The intimacy of their positions wasn’t lost on her. But, as before, she couldn’t resist the invisible pull between them. She was starting to wonder if her lack of feedings wasn’t to blame. The thought that this woman held such influence over her struck a nerve, leaving a deeper apprehension in her bones than facing off with her enemies ever could._ _

**Author's Note:**

> This werewolf & vampire au has been bouncing around in my head for months and I just wanted to get something down and out there. For the sake of this story's timeline, pretend that the Mad King and Ned Stark's deaths happened close together. Other than the supernatural elements, the political sphere will still be similar to the books and show. The families and their allegiances will still be pretty similar. The conflicts will obviously be different. I still need to decide if I'll incorporate the dragons or not. The direwolves will be apart of it in that whenever the Starks transform, they look like their wolves. Regardless, you guys let me know what you think and I'll work on it. 
> 
> Title comes from Hell by Olivver the Kid


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